


Every Time You Call

by caramelle



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-10 02:26:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10427097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelle/pseuds/caramelle
Summary: [10.54pm] i'm making up for all the unsolicited dick pics out there in the world[10.54pm] By sending an unsolicited boob pic?[10.54pm] boob pics are always solicited[10.55pm] Fair pointOr, the one where Bellamy and Clarke start sending each other nudes. Platonically, of course.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _BFF prompt: modern day fic where bellarke decide to send nudes to each other even though they're just friends?_
> 
>  
> 
> (title from Same Time, Pt. 1 by TWENTY88)

 

  
  


**[10.42pm] bellamy?**

 

[10.45pm] Clarke

 

**[10.45pm] ok good. just making sure u're holding ur phone**

 

[10.46pm] … What??

 

 **[10.47pm]** **_Clarke sent an image_ **

 

[10.49pm] Uh

 

[10.49pm] That is

 

**[10.50pm] stop typing n backspacing n typing again**

**u can ditch the awkward idk-whats-goin-on**

**spiel i just needed to vent**

 

[10.51pm] With a picture of your boobs?????

 

[10.51pm] … Those are YOUR boobs, right?

 

**[10.53pm] yes very much mine**

 

**[10.54pm] i'm making up for all the unsolicited**

**dick pics out there in the world**

 

[10.54pm] By sending an unsolicited boob pic?

 

**[10.54pm] boob pics are always solicited**

 

[10.55pm] Fair point

 

 

* * *

 

  

**[9.34pm] you still haven't reciprocated**

 

[9.40pm] I wasn't aware I was under any obligation

to respond to unsolicited boob pics

 

**[9.42pm] u're not. just sayin**

 

[9.44pm] I really doubt a photo of my bare chest

would count as reciprocation. In terms of

matching the degree of indecency, that is.

 

**[9.46pm] g o d**

 

[9.50pm] _Bellamy sent an image_

 

**[9.51pm] fuck… no offense but that's Big**

 

[9.52pm] You already saw it. Spring break '15

 

**[9.54pm] and i thought it was big then too**

 

 

* * *

 

 

**[10.11pm] _Clarke sent an image_**

 

[10.19pm] _Bellamy sent an image_

 

**[10.24pm] huh**

 

[10.25pm] ???

 

**[10.26pm] ur birthmark. top left**

 

[10.26pm] You never noticed?

 

**[10.28pm] nope**

 

 

* * *

 

  

[9.19pm] _Bellamy sent an image_

 

**[9.19pm] IM ON A DATE**

 

[9.21pm] Oh. Fuck. FUCK sorry

 

[9.22pm] Clarke, I'm so fucking sorry. Shit.

 

[9.26pm] Hope I didn't ruin it.

 

**[9.29pm] shjdfsjkfds thank GOD**

 

 **[9.30pm] i've been tryin to escape this guy for** **the**

**last 40 min now jfc what a cHATTY mf**

 

**[9.30pm] thanks for the text, btw. perfect cover to make my getaway**

 

[9.33pm] Anytime. Need a ride?

 

**[9.34pm] nah i'm alr in an uber**

 

[9.35pm] Okay. Text me when you're home.

 

**[9.49pm] _Clarke sent an image_**

 

[9.51pm] Not what I meant.

 

[9.51pm] … But thanks

 

**[9.53pm] _Clarke sent an image_**

 

**[9.54pm] here, have a double**

 

**[9.54pm] bc im so. grateful**

 

**[9.55pm] (also, dyou get it? "double", bc it's**

**2 pics,** **but also bc… GET IT??)**

 

[9.57pm] God. How much wine did you imbibe to tolerate your date?

 

**[9.58pm] not that much, actually**

 

 

* * *

 

 

**[10.02pm] _Clarke sent an image_**

 

[10.23pm] _Bellamy sent an image_

 

**[10.26pm] if only ur selfie game was this good**

 

[10.27pm] My selfie game is impeccable

 

**[10.32pm] oh definitely. 1st place in the senior olympics**

 

[10.34pm] I don't hear you complaining.

 

**[10.34pm] hahahaha. oh btw, hang tmr?**

 

[10.37pm] Sure. Text you when I get off work.

 

 

* * *

 

  

Bellamy's nervous.

 

He's used to being worried. He's used to being frustrated, or angry, or scared, or apprehensive.

 

 _Nervous,_ though? That's a new one for him.

 

He's just never really had much to be nervous _about,_ really. There's always been something or other demanding his time, his attention, all of his energy. School. Work. Money. His apartment. His sister. His friends. Hell, keeping Jasper out of jail alone is practically one tax return away from becoming a full-time job.

 

But right now, standing in the tiny elevator of Clarke's building as it takes him up to her floor, he's really, _really_ fucking _nervous._

 

He drums his fingers restlessly against his thigh, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder with his other hand. He's been doing that all evening — fidgeting nonstop since she'd texted him two hours ago ( _'netflix & takeout @ mine? im too beat to go anywhere'_).

 

 _Stop it,_ he tells himself firmly.

 

His fingers speed up in response, tapping erratically against his jeans.

 

It's just _weird,_ isn't it? Here he is, on his way to see his platonic best friend, for a platonic Netflix and platonic chill session, after an _entire_ week of texting each other nudes back and forth. Platonically.

 

At least, he _thinks_ it is? It's _supposed_ to be platonic, at least. _Probably._ Just the platonic exchange of pictures of one's exposed sexual parts. As one does with one's platonic best friend.

 

… _Yes,_ he knows how that sounds, thank you very much.

 

The thing is, Clarke hasn't actually _said_ anything to make him think it's _not_ supposed to be platonic. They've still been texting regularly all throughout the week, exchanging memes and articles about the best pad thai in town and complaining about incompetent colleagues during the daytime, as they've been doing pretty much every day for the last two years.

 

But then the day winds down, and he flops down onto his couch or onto his bed, and, somehow, right whenever he's thinking about either letting his mind drift to a certain blue-eyed blonde or letting his hand drift to his stirring crotch — what the hell, both items are usually more or less related — his phone dings with a text from abovementioned blue-eyed blonde.

 

That… still counts as platonic. Right?

 

 _Stop thinking about it,_ he orders himself, in a last-ditch attempt to calm himself as he lifts a hand to knock at the familiar salt-white door. _If she doesn't bring it up, then you don't, either._

 

There. A simple enough strategy. Everything will definitely work out fine now.

 

"Hey," Clarke says when she sees him, flashing him a bright grin before stepping in to throw her arms around his neck. "Fuck, it feels like I haven't seen you in _forever._ "

 

He laughs, letting her pull back as he moves past to step out of his shoes. "Yeah, well, you've seen plenty of me over the last few days, haven't you?"

 

Idiot. Fucking _idiot._

 

Thankfully, the distinct sound of Clarke's snort-chuckle combination relaxes him instantly.

 

"Good point," she sniggers, squeezing past him in the narrow hallway. As she does, her fingers brush over his shoulder blades, sending goosebumps fluttering up his spine.

 

His throat is very, _very_ dry.

 

"So, I actually went ahead and ordered for us both," she calls over her shoulder, picking up a cardboard menu from her kitchen table. "Since you said you wanted to try that new place on Third." She smirks, turning to hand him the menu as he enters the kitchen. "Don't worry, I made sure to get an extra thing of that basil pork stuff you like."

 

He takes the menu, dropping his head to stare at the too small words printed on a bold red background, _very_ unconducive for reading off of. "Oh. Great."

 

She hums, leaning back against the edge of the table as she watches him pretend to read the card. "Yeah, but they estimate it'll be another forty minutes before they get here." She cocks her head, and for some reason, her pause sounds deliberate. Purposeful. "Any ideas what we could do in the meantime?"

 

Before he can help it, his eyes drop down to her chest, to where the deep V-neck of her shirt is definitely offering more than just a teasing hint at the valley of her tantalising cleavage.

 

He swallows, his gaze flicking back up to her face — only to feel his groin tightening at the sight of her darkened blue irises, the part of her rosy lips. Fuck, is that what _smouldering_ looks like? He's pretty sure that's what _smouldering_ looks like.

 

All of a sudden, he forgets why he's confused. The decision's clearly already been made by both of them, long before he even got here tonight.

 

He tosses the menu aside, closing the distance between them with a single step.

 

 

* * *

 

  

"So _this_ was your master plan," he marvels an hour later, through a mouthful of pad thai. "Wait three years, and then seduce me with a bunch of unsolicited nudes."

 

Clarke shifts a foot off his lap, ducking under his arm to jab him in the side of his bare torso with her big toe. "More like _you_ seduced _me._ With a bunch of _reciprocatory_ nudes."

 

His jaw drops. "That's not how seduction works."

 

"Yes, it is," she insists, lunging forward to steal a forkful of noodles from the carton in his hands. "Trust me. I'm an expert."

 

He grins, watching her drop back into her seat as she stuffs the small mound of food into her smiling mouth, blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

 

"Indeed you are, princess," he says, with a small shake of his head. "Indeed you are."

 

**Author's Note:**

> thoughts? feelings? opinions? conspiracy theories?
> 
> we could be chillin' like ice cream fillin' on [tumblr](http://caramelkru.tumblr.com)


End file.
